A little girl with bl0 0dy feet and a torn sweater clutched a paper bag at the station, raising alarm before she spoke. Inside was a baby barely breathing—and the truth behind it would silence the entire town.

Then she took a step forward. Then another.

The bag rustled against her sweater—a sweater that had once been pink but now looked like it had been dragged through too many days without care.

Her lips trembled when she finally spoke.

“Please,” she whispered.

Her voice was barely there.

“He won’t wake up.”

Daniel felt his stomach drop.

“Who won’t?” he asked quickly, already moving closer.

“My brother,” she said.

And then, as if that explained everything—